Eragon :: The Sands of Time
by The Whispering Wind
Summary: Eragon finds that Galbatorix is not the only threat in Alegaesia. Beings from before recorded history wake and wreak havoc on the Resistance. Caught between the dark lord and an ageless chaos, Eragon finds help from another ancient power.
1. Prologue

**Prologue  
**

I am a Mystic.

I was once of a great race. A race of beings with light in lieu of flesh and magic in lieu of blood. We had grown so advanced that there was nothing more to live for. Mysteries no longer puzzled us. Nothing hid from our sight -- even the darkest corners of the universe were blinding. So we crossed the sea to the desolate land that later nations would name Alegaesia.

We came before Men.

We came before Dwarves.

We came before Elves.

We even came before the Dragons.

Once we arrived, we gathered together and bound the wild magic in the world to law and language. For this, we paid a heavy price. We were forced into lesser forms, with only a fraction of the strength we once possessed. We stood by and watched as the new beings came and claimed slivers of the land for themselves, starting their primitive cities and governments, dabbling in science, faith, art and war. We taught them the magic language, so that they, too, could grow as we had. We guided them and taught them the concepts of morality and education. We taught them language. All the while we always reminded ourselves that this was not our time. Our time was over. They would have to forge their own path and pen their own history. We kept our distance and only touched the lives around us when they touched us.

Time passed, and most of my kind faded from all thought and memory. Most continued to descend in mind and spirit, slowly becoming almost human -- or less. Others took to the forests and became one with the flora and fauna, giving nature a consciousness of its own. Others disappeared entirely, melting away like the winter snows under the dancing winds of spring.

I'm the only one left.

Now the people of Alegaesia are all under threat from a man named Galbatorix. His magic is strong. His grip is tight. His control is almost complete. With every sunrise he gains strength, and with every sunset I grow weaker. The only hope this world has of lasting and rising above this Dark Age rests in the hands of a young boy and his dragon. I hesitate to lend my hand, sword and mind to him and to all the beings of Alegaesia. I may have weakened, and continue to grow weaker by the day, but I still have enough fire in my spirit to influence the hands of the Fates as well as their threads and scissors.

I wait for a sign. I wait for the land to tell me to take up arms and stand out in the open as the storm gathers. I ask only one question and I await the answer: do I stand by and hope these people are destined to rise above the clouds and continue to grow or do I use the past to influence the future? Only time will tell.

But time is running out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Eragon's face strains and contorts. It slowly reddens and he grits his teeth. He gives a loud exhale and he opens his eyes and pants. He sets down a stone tablet that he held in his hands and falls back onto the grass. He lays there, looking up through the holes in the trees at the clear, blue sky.

Oromis was sitting nearby. "Eragon..." He mutters as he shakes his head. Eragon raises his arms and lets them fall out. "I'm sorry, master. I just can't do it." He pants. He licks his dry lips. "I'm just too tired." "You're still having trouble?" The elf asks with a raised eyebrow. Eragon props himself up on his elbows and looks at the ancient elf. "I don't know what it is." Eragon sighs. "For the last week I've been having more and more trouble using magic."

Eragon looks down and away. He was quiet for a long time. "It's concerning me, master." Eragon finally speaks. He looks up at his master. "I feel like there's something wrong with me." Oromis nods. "I would tell you not to be -- that you are just tired." The elf heaves a sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But even I feel weaker. In my bones, I feel it. It's like a coldness. I feel it sucking the warmth in my body."

Eragon nods. He had felt that way too. Even as he lay there, the grass that would usually feel so soft and warm beneath him felt cold like stone. The parts of his body that touched the ground felt icy and numb. At first he thought it could be the winter months were coming, but then he questioned wether the enchanted forests of Ellesmera even experienced seasonal changes. Then he wondered if he was getting sick. He went to a healer, but she found nothing wrong with him. He even wondered if he was training too hard. What made him doubt this was the fact that every other person he met was feeling the same way -- in varying degrees.

"What do you think is going on, master?" Eragon asks. Oromis smacks his lips and shrugs. "I don't know. What I do know is: it's making the Queen worry. She as well as I feel..." He stops and looks sidelong at the forest. Eragon furrows his eyebrows. "What? Feel what?" He asks. Deep down, he guessed and even dreaded the answer his master was about to give. Oromis eyes his pupil. "We aren't certain," he begins, slowly as if careful in choosing his words, "but I as well as the Queen feel that Galbatorix could attack at any time." Eragon's eyes widen. "You mean? He might be--" "We aren't certain." Oromis asserts. Eragon looks down at his hands. He realizes they were gripping the ground. He releases the sod and shudders, trying to shake off the cold inside as well as the thoughts of Galbatorix.

_Little one?_

Eragon blinks and looks up. _Saphira._ He thinks with a smile. He senses distress in her mind, which makes him frown. _Saphira, what is wrong?_

_You need to come back to the capital._ Saphira responds. _There's something very wrong._

Eragon rises and notices Oromis doing the same. "So Saphira told you?" Oromis asks. Eragon nods. "She told me something was wrong." Oromis straightens his clothes and nods back. "Glaeder told me that as well. Let us hurry." From the forest, two white horses gallop into the clearing and stop beside them. Eragon mounts his horse and rides off with grim fuel for his imagination.

_Are __you__ okay, Saphira?_

_Of course. _Saphira replies with a laugh in her voice.

--

Eragon and Oromis stop before the front stoop of the royal house, where Saphira, Glaeder and Arya were waiting. Eragon slips off his horse and looks over them. His eyes stop on Arya. Eragon saw something in Arya's eyes that he had never seen before. It was something that resembled dread. On her dignified features, however, it only made her seem more royal in Eragon's eyes. He pushes that thought from his mind, knowing to say that would only evoke her ire.

"Master Gladaer." Eragon says as he bows to the large golden dragon. Glaeder bows his head back. Eragon bows to Arya. "Arya _svit-kona_." She gives a small smile and bows her head in return. "Eragon _finiarel_." Eragon rises and ascends the stoop, taking his place at Saphira's side. He touches Saphira's cheek and looks in her eyes. "What's going on?" He asks. "Why did you call me here?"

Oromis takes his place beside his dragon. "Is there something wrong?" The twin doors at the top of the stoop open. All look up and watch as Queen Islanzadi comes out. "Yes, my friend. I'm afraid there is horrible news."

Oromis bows respectfully and reminds Eragon to do the same with a look. "What is the problem, your highness?" The Queen folds her hands over her lap and shakes her head. "A rider came to us from the Varden. He was half dead when he arrived." The Queen bows her head so her face was shadowed by her hair. "He was pale, and his eyes were clouded. He looked as though there wasn't a drop of blood in his body. Yet none of or healers could mend him. The truly odd thing was...there were no marks on his body." She looks up and meets their eyes. "No wounds of any kind."

Eragon looks to see Oromis's reaction. The old elf ran a hand over his cheeks, his eyes firmly on the steps. Eragon shakes his head as he tried to make sense of it. "But...but how?" Eragon asks, looking back up at the Queen. "He couldn't be healed?" "If you think that is puzzling, _Argetlam_, then listen further." The Queen says. She gestures back the way she came. "We took the man in and let him rest here. The whole time, he ranted about phantoms and wights, saying they were waging war with their own people." Seeing their confused looks, the Queen went further. "The people were being possessed, my friends. Dark works are at hand. As I'm sure you are all aware and have felt it, there has been a strange aura about our home."

"You believe they are connected?" Oromis asks. The Queen nods slowly. Eragon shakes his head. He didn't like where his mind strayed. He didn't like the answers they were coming to. "Master." He says, almost desperately. Oromis looks at him. "Yes. They may be heading our way." "We must prepare." The Queen says. She looks at Eragon and Eragon alone. "If we are under threat from this mysterious shadow that has been cast over us, we will need you Dragonrider."

Eragon grips his hands and looks at Saphira. She looks at him, as though they were looking at a reflection of themselves in that moment. They nod. Eragon turns back to the Queen. "Do all you must, your highness. You have my service." _And my claws._ Saphira says with a wisp of smoke leaking out her nostrils. Oromis steps forward. "I speak for Glaeder when I say, we second our pupils' offer." Oromis says. The Queen smiles and bows her head. "Thank you. It will hearten and strengthen my people to know there is still courage and hope."

The sounds of galloping hooves fill the air. The group looks up to see a handful of elven riders coming their way. They stop and one breaks from the rest. He struggles with the reins as his horse backs and shakes its head. "My lady! On the southeast border! A man riding a strange creature has entered the forest!"

Eragon looks at Oromis. The elf meets his gaze. A pale light was in those eyes. He knew very well that even though he suffered from his condition, that nothing would stop him from protecting his people. In that moment, he even feared his crippled master. _This is it._ Came his master's message. Eragon firms his face and nods to show his confidence.

"Describe him." The Queen demands. The rider swallows to moisten his throat. "He was dressed plainly, but rode a wild creature. It looked like a bird, but had the body of a large wolf. It was a humbling sight, I vouch."

Eragon mounts Saphira. "We'll meet him half way, your highness." He says. Arya looks up quickly. Until then, she had nary said a word. She comes over to Eragon and Saphira. "You don't have a sword, Eragon!" She protests. Eragon nods over his shoulder. "I have my bow." He says. "That's good enough." Arya opens her mouth as though she were going to say something else but stops herself. She backs away. "Good luck, _Argetlam_." She mutters. Eragon furrows his eyebrows. He felt like he wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say to her.

Oromis climbs onto Glaeder. "Prepare the foot soldiers, your highness. We'll take a Calvary with us and meet this visitor." The Queen nods. "Blessings go with you." She says. "Thank you both."

--

Eragon rides beside Oromis through the forest. Around them was a company of elves on horses. They all seemed reserved, which Eragon was used to. When elves were nervous they tended to bury the fear and act rather than dwell on that fear. Eragon looks around beyond the elves. His heart races. Every bush looked as though they would suddenly become the enemy and leap out at him. The trees seemed to bear over him, glaring with eyes hidden in their knots and leaves.

_It's too quiet. Even for this eerie forest. _Saphira says.

_Do you feel anything, Saphira?_ Eragon asks.

She shakes her large head. _Should I?_

_I feel cold...er. Colder than I've felt for the last week. _Eragon answers. Saphira snorts and looks back at him. _Now that you mention it..._

"_Argetlam_!" Came a call. Both Eragon and Oromis look up. An elf rides out from the haze and trees and stops before them. Others follow, but they continue passed them. "We should fall back." Says the elf. His eyes were wide and his skin pale.

"What do you mean?" Oromis asks. The elf looks back from where he came. "We told him to stop. He didn't even answer. He kept walking. We threatened to shoot him down. He didn't answer. It got to the point where we decided to wound him -- making good on our threat." He turns his face back to them. He shakes his head mechanically. "The arrows didn't even touch him. They burned up." He flourished his hand. "Like that."

"He used magic." Oromis explains, as if the elf didn't know. But the elf shakes his head again. "He didn't use words. He didn't even look up. But when I looked in his eyes, those empty eyes, I could see that he knew. Even from where I hid, I knew that he knew." The elf trembles.

"Here he comes!" Comes call.

Eragon looks up as does Oromis. Saphira growls, her green-tinged lips curling to expose her fangs. _I see him. _

_In the mist a figure was just distinguishable. He was tall and broad -- a whole head taller than Eragon. His body was covered by a baggy, white cloak. As he came closer, Eragon could see a hood draped over his head. The man strode calmly through the leaves and underbrush. Eragon listens closely, but even with his heightened senses, he couldn't hear a sound from his feet._

Oromis and Glaeder step forward. The gold dragon raises his head back and puffs out his chest, taking on a regal air. Oromis throws out a porcelain hand. "Halt." He commands. "You are trespassing on the land of Queen Isanzadi!"

The being stops hearing Oromis and stands unmoving on a rise. That's when Eragon felt it: the penetrating coldness. It was like a cold palm pressing against his chest. _He can see me._

The being stands there for a long time -- menacing and forbidding. Eragon shakes his head as he watches him. He did nothing. It seemed like ages, but the man did not move an inch. Eragon wondered what he wanted. Why was he here? Why did he torture them with his ominous presence? That's when Eragon realized he was feeling the cold fear that the other elves described to him. It wasn't like fear he's felt in the past. Not even like the fear he's felt in the presence of the Ra'zac.

He wanted the man to stop staring. Just to stop staring and move!

He looks over at Oromis and gasps. "Master!" He exclaims. The elf was twitching, his eyes were squeezed shut. "Get back to the capitol." Oromis says hoarsely. "As I speak, he's trying to break into my mind."

Eragon shakes his head. "No..." He says, watching, helpless to save his master. He looks back at the man and sneers. _Eragon, no! _Saphira barks. She could sense what he was doing. Eragon closes his eyes and launches an attack on the man. Like a ray of light turning to shine on him, Eragon could feel the man's attention shift to him.

Eragon was surprised to find no resistance to his attack. His mind moved through the man's with no barriers before it. Eragon smiles. The man must be concentrating on breaking Oromis's mind. This would be easy for him to do. Both he and Oromis would be able to overwhelm the enemy.

Suddenly, lights flash in Eragon's mind. They were blinding, making the dark in between each flash all the darker. He felt himself spinning, but he knew he was quite still sitting on Spahira's back. He felt queasy and tried to withdraw. He found that he couldn't. He tried to contact Saphira. He felt as though his words were stripped from his mind; sucked into the heart of the vortex that he was trapped in. He felt so cold now. He felt his mind leaving his body. All pain was gone -- and that hurt the most.

_You've had enough_. Came a thought. It was wordless, as though his own mind had told him this. Eragon opens his eyes. As his vision clears, he finds himself on the ground, looking up into the eyes of Saphira. He groans and holds his throbbing head. Tasting something bitter in his mouth, he spits it out. He wipes his chin and examines the foam left on his fingers. He looks up. Before him where a pair of black boots. He follows them up to the rest of the man.

His hooded face was looking down at him. His cloak moves aside and a heavy, black glove reaches down to him. "On your feet, _Argetlam_." Came a voice from the shadow. It was smooth and soft, like a breeze against Eragon's ear. Eragon reaches up and takes the hand. The cold melts before a wave of warmth as it travels from the man's hand and up along his arm. The next thing he knew, he his weight shift onto his legs and found himself standing.

The man turns to Oromis, who was no longer on Glaeder. He was smiling. This surprised Eragon as his memory returned to him. "Acaeus, my old friend." Oromis says. "It's been so long. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

"Understandable. It's been a century and a half since we last spoke. And that was sparring in nature, if I recall right." He turns back to Eragon. "Which I do." He stares at Eragon for a long time. Eragon leans forward, trying to see passed the hood's shadow. All he could make out was a chin and thin, white lips.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Eragon Shadeslayer..." The man says. This made Eragon's eyes widen. He felt Saphira's surprise as well. They felt more shock course through them as the man pulls back his hood. He had white eyes; void of pupil or iris. Just plain white, like his hair. Flashing his teeth in a grin, the man speaks. "...I am Acaeus. Acaeus the Mystic."


End file.
